


the college experience

by cookiethewriter



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, and realized i never posted it, i scoured my tumblr to find this, or maybe pre-relationship, this is from may 2k17 lmao, this is more friendship than love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: posted on my tumblr may, 2017.arrowtothecrown on tumblr: i know your request tab is probably hella full already but please write this in ambreigns???? roman as the hot broke college student and dean as the burglar





	the college experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecastortwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecastortwin/gifts).



> i have made it a more recent habit of not taking requests (i do have some in the queue from waaaaaay earlier this year, so anyone who asked for something, i'm so sorry) but i wrote this for my friend last year and posted it to tumblr. mostly because i couldn't think of a title. and i still can't, but that's pretty on-brand, so y'all expect that by now. anyway, enjoy!!

Roman had heard from several of his old high school buddies that college was this super-fun, social experience where they had really begun to come into their own and were learning all these things, and generally, they were all having a good time. And Roman was happy for them, he _was_ , but…

To put it simply, his college experience was on the total opposite side of the spectrum.

The apartment he’d been able to afford, at the end of the day, wasn’t much bigger than the inside of a bigger-sized cardboard box, and he didn’t have a whole lot in it: a small kitchenette, a single chair that was once plush but is now held closed with duct tape and staples (rendering it no longer comfortable), and a TV tray, which had a broken leg and would keep wobbling whenever he put anything on it.

An afghan was folded crisply over the chair, and that’s where he slept. Couldn’t afford a bed, proper furniture, or even food.

(Wasn’t like he didn’t have food _all the time_ , but at this particular time, he’d cleaned his fridge out of all food and had eaten his last Cup o’ Noodles a few nights ago.)

So, to say that it was certainly an ‘experience’ wasn’t wrong, but Roman wished it could be better. Just a little.

Apparently, whoever was looking out for him up in the clouds had a sense of humor, because what ended up turning everything around came in the form of a shady figure standing in the middle of his living room after a particularly stressful day.

* * *

It had been raining when Roman woke up, which was the first indicator that today was going to be pretty shitty. Not that any other day was better or shittier, but if the skies were crying, it probably meant he would be too by the end of it.

He’d always been a little impressionable.

Sitting up from the beat-up chair and tossing the blanket he’d half-ass draped over his large frame away, he scrubs a hand over the scruff at his jaw and walks right into his bathroom to make some sense of his sleep-mussed appearance. After a good clean-up job of his face and wetting his hair in the bathroom sink, he throws his hair up into a tight bun and goes into his laundry basket in the corner to fish out some clean clothes.

He didn’t have food, but Roman’d be _damned_ if he didn’t have clean laundry.

His first class was at 10am, so he ended up leaving pretty early to walk over to the building; he lived far enough that it would be a comfortable car ride, but unfortunately, he’d had to sell his car to make rent this month. It was a good-length walk, good for waking him up and getting his blood pumping, and he went to class with no issues.

At some point in the middle of the day, his name had gotten into the mouths of some of the other students, and when he went to grab a quick bite from the cafeteria - he was _that guy_ who paid in change, but he didn’t carry a bunch with him at all times, so he didn’t waste _too much_ of anyone’s time - he was approached by a guy with a part of his hair bleached.

“Yo, Reigns,” he says in this nasally voice. Makes Roman cringe a little bit, because he has this ’ _hah hah hah_ ’ laugh that reminds him a lot of that tall, purple guy in Mario games. What was his name again? “Word’s goin’ around that someone’s been stealing furniture from some of the guys’ dorms. Should probably keep an eye o– oh. Wait, I forgot.” _Hah hah hah._ “You don’t have anything worth stealing.”

And yeah, okay, he doesn’t, but hearing it said out loud makes the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes burn, and he has, at least, the gall to narrow his watering eyes at Skunk Hair before he gets the hell out of there, taking a bite of his Nutrigrain bar.

His next class isn’t anything he particularly _needs_ to pay attention to today, so he lets his mind wander as the Professor starts the lesson; how had it even come up that he was fucking broke? Why wasn’t anyone _else_ as broke as he was? -or, maybe they were, but managed their money better, but he wasn’t terrible at managing it … so why weren’t they miserable? Why couldn’t he just have a fine day, where he didn’t have to think about how he was thinking about breaking down and asking his parents for a little money, just enough to get him by–

Not that he’d wish this on anybody else, but maybe he did a little bit. Just a tiny bit.

Like, an infinitesimal amount.

Luckily, the notes that he would have had to take he could easily get from someone else, so he didn’t worry too much about it when he didn’t absorb as much of the lesson as anyone else. All he was worried about now was getting back to his apartment.

He … didn’t feel like going to his third class. Just wanted to sleep.

It had stopped raining sometime between his first and second class, but it picked back up again as he started walking, so by the time he got to the front door of his apartment building, he was dripping wet, soaked-through clothes and shoes squishing against the carpet.

Not to mention, he was dreading walking back into his apartment just to have absolutely nothing to actually go back to. What Skunk Hair had said made him feel worse than he already had, and if he hadn’t already promised his father that he’d make him proud or whatever, he’d just say ‘to hell with this’ and quit.

But Roman, promise to his father or not, wasn’t a quitter. On pride alone, he was going to stick this out, because honestly, it couldn’t get much worse than this.

He makes it to his floor and digs around his pocket for his key, but when he moves to unlock his door, he sees it’s already been jimmied open. _Great. Just fucking great._ He pushes it forward, prepared to face this head-on, and finds a figure about his height standing in the middle of his apartment.

Appears to be feeling a little awkward as he turns around at the sound of Roman tossing his backpack on the floor.

“This your place?”

Roman looks at him, annoyed. “Yeah. Which means it ain’t _yours._ ”

“I’m gonna be honest with ya’,” the guy goes on, completely ignoring the scoff that Roman lets out. _Dude, just go, you’re not gonna get anything worthwhile here._ “You don’t got _nothin’_ , man. Shit. I was gonna rob you, but–”

What the _fuck_ was this guy talking about? Roman had to do a double-take, because he’s pretty sure a burglar is supposed to like, run away when they’re caught, or something. Not stand there and start to get cold feet _just because_ he was fucking broke. What the hell was he doing?

The burglar gives him an even look, like they’re on an even playing field, and it makes Roman’s blood boil. But it’s a short-lived anger, because the day’s just not been a good one, started off shitty and now he’s soaked through and he just wants to sleep the rest of the day off - and this guy’s eyes are fucking blue as the ocean, deep and open.

“How do you live like this? Hold on. I'ma be right back.”

He half-jogs around Roman, just leaving him there.

Roman just stares, befuddled, mouth flapping before he just … he sighs. Just sighs, and closes his door.

Just kicks his shoes off, tugs off his wet socks and throws himself into the uncomfortable chair. Closes his eyes, digs his thumb and middle finger into each eye respectively to wipe the tears out of the corners of ‘em before he decides, once and for all, that today’s better off being over.

A while later, when the sun is starting to sink behind the buildings across the street, he hears people in his apartment, walking around his living room and a semi-recognizable rasp of a voice spitting out orders to the others who were here. Roman opens his eyes, blinks a few times, before he sits up.

Ends up staring right into a pair of blue eyes.

But, that’s not all he sees:

Up against the wall across the room is a small television, which a dude is currently working on hooking up and plugging in. Off to the side of that, closer to his kitchenette, he sees a small table and a couple of chairs being set up around it. It’s jarring to see people in his apartment, but it’s even more-so to see the furniture being set up, filling the space up, making it comfortable even if the furniture didn’t really match–

–he sucks in, sharp, feels tears gather in his eyes again.

“I got a bed for ya, too,” Blue Eyes says, making Roman look at him, sniff at him. “Gonna have that brought up for ya in a couple days.”

“Wh-” Roman starts to say something, ask _why_ , but he shakes his head and wipes a hand over his face. He can’t find the words he wants to say, but tears are slipping down his face now. Just thin ribbons slipping over his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

* * *

A week later, true to his word, Blue Eyes - Roman learns his name is Dean, which isn’t the only thing he learns in that time - stops by and helps put together a wooden frame for his new bed, as well as brings over some sandwiches to munch on while they do it.

Unlikely friends from unorthodox circumstances, but things are on the up-and-up, and Roman isn’t complaining. In fact, he doesn’t again, ever, because Dean becomes one of the greatest things to happen to him.

…he still doesn’t have money, but he has a friend and a decent place to return to. It’s something.

Not to mention, as he walks through the cafeteria, he overhears Skunk Hair talking to his buddies, “–stole my bed from my goddamn dorm! My _entire_ bed, frame and everything! Dad’s gonna kill me…” and he ignores the look he gets when he starts to giggle loudly.

_Karma, bitch._


End file.
